2 The Dante Connection (23 page)

“I don’t think that he only studied me. I believe that he found that you are all connected to me somehow and went out of his way to find out as much as possible about you.” As I believed he had done with Colin. My lips tightened and I shook my head. “You are in danger because of your association with me.”

“Bullshit!” Vinnie jumped up and glared at me. “My life was dangerous a long time before I met you, Jen-girl. You are not responsible for this asshole’s behaviour.”

“Thank you, Vinnie. I know this. My statement is not out of some irrational false responsibility. I was merely stating that you are targeted by Kubanov because you are connected to me.”

People like Kubanov enjoyed the complexity of these games to an obsessive degree. Despite all the clues pointing to him taking revenge on me for whatever wrong he perceived I had done, I was convinced there was more. He had alluded to me being the cream in his coffee. If that were true, who or what was the coffee?

“Unfortunately I agree with Genevieve,” Francine said. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out how somebody could have discovered where I live and then broken in. If Kubanov studied you, followed you, he would’ve seen us meeting for lunch at some point.”

The heavy weight of reality settled on me. “It wouldn’t have been him. He would’ve have had someone else do it, but yes, your theory is feasible. He would have wanted to know as much as possible about the people in my life. God, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Colin enunciated each word emphatically.

“Let’s find him before he can hurt anyone else,” Francine said softly. “I think I might know a way.”

As one we turned to her.

“Does this have to do with your state of shock?” I asked.

“Yes, it does.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I feel incredibly stupid at this moment, because I really should’ve seen this earlier. Oh well, this is definitely a lesson in humility. The last person I ever would’ve expected to be connected to Kubanov’s ilk has just handed my pride to me on a platter.”

“You know who’s been helping the hacker?”

“Yes. Everything makes much more sense now. Twelve years ago I was, um, functioning on the fringes.” She saw my one lifted eyebrow, glanced at Manny and gave me a resigned smile. “I was not always working for the good guys, Genevieve. One day a twelve-year-old boy managed to hack me. He was good, but a bit heavy-handed and I traced him. Long story short, I took him under my wing, taught him how to hide his presence, be stealthier, basically to become an exceptional hacker.”

“And this is the guy helping Kubanov and Luc Alain?”

She nodded. “I was trying to trace the call from Kubanov while you were talking to him. I heard everything. The moment he called me a Brazilian-mix, I knew. When Jonas found out that I have a Brazilian-Chinese father and a French mother, he decided that my Brazilian genes were the strongest. He always called me a Brazilian-mix.”

“That’s his name? Jonas?” Manny had his smartphone in his hand. “What is his surname?”

“DuPont.” She sounded sad. “Jonas DuPont. He is brilliant. I have not crossed paths with him in years. I haven’t seen his recent work. He’s made a point of being invisible.”

“Like you,” I said. Francine had hinted a few times at the lengths she had gone to remain unknown.

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Why did you lose touch with him?” Colin asked.

“I started playing with the angels and he was increasingly dabbling in evil. We didn’t part ways as the best of friends. I don’t want to hang around black hat hackers.”

“Are those the bad guys?” I asked. When Francine nodded, an immediate association came. “That must make you a white hat hacker.”

“I would like to think so,” she said.

“Do you know where he is?” Manny asked .

“Behind his computers,” Francine answered. “As I know him, he’s already disconnected the computer he used for Kubanov’s hacking and is stripping it for parts. He would be using different hardware and operating systems to start his next evil invasion.”

“Send me everything you have on him,” Manny fumbled with something in his jacket pocket. His lips thinned in frustrated anger and he breathed deeply. “Could you please get my phone out of this bloody pocket and phone Daniel?”

Francine smiled sensually at Manny’s brisk tone and leaned closer. She looked at him with a challenge as she put one palm against his chest and took her time searching for his phone with the other. By the time she had dialled Daniel, Manny was grinding his teeth. He grabbed the phone from her and pushed it against his ear.

I wasn’t interested in listening to a one-sided conversation. I turned to Vinnie. “What did Kubanov send?”

“The motherfucker sent you flowers, Jen-girl.” The corners of his mouth pulled down. “Fifteen red daffodils. Millard and the police dude thought it was better for them to take it and get it analysed in case there was more to the gift than just the pretty flowers.”

“Fifteen?” The number resonated with some of the many bits of information floating around my brain. Was it connected to something I had already looked at in this case or was it completely disconnected? I was relieved that the curiosity of the flowers overpowered the depraved symbolism of the gift. I didn’t want to lose time going into my head to regain my calm and equilibrium.

“Yup,” Vinnie said. “There was no note. Just the flowers. The kid who delivered it is with the police now. He didn’t know anything. The florist is his mother and she receives a lot of online orders. Since there was no handwritten note, he thought that these flowers were maybe ordered online. When they left here, they were going to his mother’s shop to find out about the order.”

Manny had finished his phone call and put his phone on the table. He looked at Francine’s laptop. “Did you record Doc’s conversation with Kubanov?”

“Most of it.” She started tapping away on the keyboard. “I didn’t catch the very beginning. It took me a few seconds to set up the recording and tracing programs when Colin told me to do it.”

“Can we listen to it again?”

“Sure. Let me just… Okay, here we go.”

There was a lot of tense body language around the table while we were listening to the conversation. Hearing it all again only served to confirm my previous observations. It also surprised me immensely to hear the steady, almost bored, tone of my voice. I didn’t think I was capable of repeating that calm conversation if asked to. It was amazing what a person could do under pressure. It might not be second nature to me, but to successfully deceive was something that I could do. And do well enough to mislead someone like Kubanov.

My pondering pulled my attention away from the table. I didn’t notice the onset of it, only the full-blown anger in Manny’s body when he leaned over the table towards Colin.

“What the fuck did he mean, Frey?”

Colin moved to stand up, but I swung my arm out and stopped him with my forearm across his chest. I knew what this was about. I knew the time had come. And I was not looking forward to the next few minutes.

“Manny.” When he didn’t look at me, I raised my voice. “Manny! Sit down. Thank you.”

He glared at me only for a second before turning furious eyes on Colin.

“Wait, don’t say anything yet.” Hundreds of thoughts were rushing through my mind. The ones surprising me most was my concern with everyone’s emotions. I turned to Colin. “Do you want Francine and Vinnie to be here for this?”

“I’m not doing it, Jenny.” Colin pushed against my arm to stand up, but I wouldn’t let him.

“I’m not fucking going anywhere.” Vinnie folded his arms across his chest.

“Fine.” I was done being considerate. I looked at Manny until his eyes turned on me. “Remember when you promised me that you would listen when I asked?”

Manny did not like where my request was going. “Now? You want me to sit back and listen now?”

“Yes, please. Don’t talk until you’ve heard everything.” To my surprise Manny nodded. He pressed his lips tightly together and sat back in his chair. He might have complied, but it had not made him any less combative.

“I’m not talking, Jenny.” Colin’s body was tense against my arm. I pulled my arm back awkwardly and put my palms on my thighs.

“Do you trust me?” I asked as he moved to stand.

Colin’s eyes flashed in surprise and he sat back down. He lowered his head and looked straight in my eyes. “Implicitly.”

“Do you trust my assessment of people?”

He sighed. He must have anticipated my next question. “Millard doesn’t have clearance for this, Jenny.”

“But I do?” I lifted one eyebrow. He sighed again. I didn’t give him the opportunity to answer. “I have been the recipient of Manny’s harsh words more times that I can count. He’s not a polite, diplomatic person. But I trust him, Colin. With my life. And I know that you know he can be trusted. You were the one who convinced me of this six months ago. This disrespect between the two of you is unproductive and completely misplaced. It constantly interferes with this investigation and frankly I am tired of wishing that Phillip was here to mediate. Tell Manny or I will.”

I waited out the silence, hoping that I was handling this correctly. Indeed I did wish that Phillip had been here. I did not have the calm presence he had. What I did apparently have was the ability to gain the cooperation of four strong-minded people. Vinnie was watching Colin, undoubtedly ready to act on whatever decision Colin would make. His loyalty unwavering. Francine, on the other hand, was watching this with the same look of gleeful entertainment I had seen on the men’s faces when they were watching a wrestling match on television.

Colin shifted next to me. He had made up his mind. His bottom jaw was ever so slightly pushed forward, his chest pushed out. He looked at Manny. “You tell anyone and you’re dead.”

Thoughts expressed themselves on Manny’s face. I was impressed and extremely grateful when he didn’t verbalise most of the micro-expressions I observed. “I’m listening.”

“You remember when you arrested me thirteen years ago? And then after only a few hours in your custody I was taken away? Well, that arrest managed to raise flags at Interpol, and the Secretary-General at that time got involved. He and two other high-ranking officials decided that I was exactly what the organisation needed. They offered me a deal and I’ve been working for Interpol since. Apart from the Secretary-General and a few other people, no one at Interpol knows that I even exist.”

“Tell him what you do,” I said when Colin stopped.

“I reappropriate art.” Colin briefly closed his eyes and shook his head. I could see this was not easy for him. “Sometimes I reappropriate other things that Interpol requires. Obviously these things are often of sensitive nature. Art stolen during wars, sensitive information lost or stolen. A lot of this can have large international repercussions. These thefts are never reported since the items were not supposed to be in those people’s possession in the first place. There are only seven people who know what I do.” He looked at me. “Are you happy now?”

“Thank you.” I looked at Manny. “We are all on the same side. If I have learned anything from working with all of you, it is that there is no black and white in doing good. I don’t always understand it, but at least I don’t treat anyone as if they are beneath me.”

Manny was quiet for a long time, his eyes narrowed and focused on the wall behind me. His mind was putting the pieces together. It didn’t take long before he came to some conclusion. More sober than I had ever seen him, he looked at Colin. “Did they send you after Kubanov?”

“Yes.”

“I never had time to verify any of the intel that I had received. Was any of it correct?” Manny startled when Vinnie slammed his hands on the table and got up.

“I have to cook. Y’all stay for dinner.” He stormed to the kitchen, his movements not as fluid as usual.

“What happened, Frey? What was Kubanov talking about?” Manny nodded at Francine’s computer where the recording was stored.

Colin’s
buccinator
muscles pulled his mouth into a sneer. “It was a set-up. I agree with Jenny that this is about revenge. I think that after the last case, Kubanov was so pissed that he wanted to lash out. My theory is that he knew you were on that case and somehow he also knew that I had been involved. He fed you some intel, just enough to gain interest. I don’t think he knows that I work for Interpol, so it was possibly only his good fortune that I was sent to his place in Russia. He took great pleasure in telling me how he had planned it.”

The more Colin told him about the captivity, the mansion and the rescue, the more Manny’s pallor turned gray. Colin’s voice was tight with remembered distress. “When that plan didn’t work, I think he sat back and started planning something much more elaborate, something that in his mind would destroy Jenny.”

“But why you? Why did he want you in his territory?” Manny asked.

Colin looked at me with regret. “He wanted information on Jenny. He couldn’t find anything to hurt her with and thought that I could, or would, give him a way in.”

“You were tortured because of me.” My voice sounded distant to my own ears. “Oh Colin. I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, Frey. As much as I think you’re a thieving conman, I would never have sent you out on unverified intel.” His brow pulled together. “Why did they do it? Send you without making sure what I had was for real?”